“All right.” Stephanie comes our way wielding an extra-large pizza she just pulled out of the oven. “Nana Rose’s recipe. Sourdough crust, homemade marinara, fresh mozzarella, fresh grated parm, and just a dash of chili flakes. If this doesn’t make it on the menu, nothing deserves to be there.”
Regina snorts. “We have a cheese pizza. No offense to Nana Rose, but that’s hardly revolutionary.”
Shep steps up. “Did someone say pizza?”
I make my way to him and my arms swim around his waist.
“Not just any pizza. It’s Nana Rose’s recipe. The secret is in her sauce. But just know it could only be improved upon by way of a brick oven—the way Nana Rose intended.”
Opal heads over with her hair a shocking shade of pumpkin, her matching lips and eyelids. She’s donned a navy velvet cape over a dark suit, and I can’t help but think that velvet cape looks an awful lot like the other curtain panel that managed to escape the blaze last night. An insurance adjuster will be coming by later this afternoon to assess the damage.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she drones out the words. “Can someone please put that in my belly?”
We share a chuckle on her behalf as Stephanie slices and doles out the food. Mud, Thea, and Flo show up, and soon we’re all moaning as we indulge in what’s safe to call the best pizza on the planet.
“Oh, all right,” Opal groans as she looks to the unfinished pizza in her hand. “You can have your pizza oven, Bowie. If this is what you can do without it, we’ll be infiltrated with the masses as they try to get their hands on this.”
“Really?” It comes out a touch too loud, a touch too enthusiastic.
She flicks her fingers my way. “Really.”
The entire lot of us breaks out into cheers, and Opal tosses an arm in the air.
“What the heck.” She leans my way. “Remodel the entire café.”
Another round of cheers breaks out, and half of those came from the dining room.
A spray of stars appears at the mouth of the entry, and a breath hitches in my throat.
I look up at Shep. “I’ll be right back.”
He glances to the doorway. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine.” I hope.
I head out, and sure enough, that glowing spray of stars is making its way toward the library.
The Halloween decorations are still up, albeit in disarray. Miggy said she’d come by later today to clean everything up. I told her to take her time. She’s been through enough.
A form begins to appear, and sure as I’m living and breathing, Hazel Newton appears doing neither of those things. About fifteen different cats let out a sharp yowl as their fur stands on end and they scat to the four corners of the unknown.
“Hazel,” I say with a marked sadness in my tone.
“Bowie Binx.” She offers a peaceable smile. Her eyes glow like beacons, and yet she doesn’t look terrifying at all. She looks pleasing to the eye, warm and kind, just the way I remember her from the night we met. “I’m free to stay here, at the manor.” She shrugs. “I guess I could leave the premises if I want to, but I rather like it here. I’m going to stay.”
“All alone?”
A bubbling laugh echoes from her. “The cats will warm to me eventually. I don’t think I’ll be too lonely. Besides, you’re here, and so is Opal.” She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m not ready to leave. And you, with your powers, you can see and hear me. I need you, Bowie, to keep me sane.”
“You do realize my middle name is Crazy. I’m not exactly a model of mental stability.”
“Well, I will never judge you for your past.”
“Hey, Bowie!” a cheery voice calls from behind, and I turn to see Miggy speeding this way with a small army of people behind her. “We’re here to do the takedown.”
“How are you holding up?”
Miggy’s shoulders sag as she sighs. “I’m doing the best I can. And you know what? I’ve decided to throw myself into my business to power through all this grief I’ve been through. And I’m going to live twice as hard and loud, and I’m doing it in honor of my friends—both Hazel and Annabelle.” A mournful smile takes over, and I pull her into a quick embrace.
“That’s beautiful. Keep in touch, okay?”
“You bet.” She takes off for the ballroom, and Hazel hitches her head in that direction. “I think I’ll go keep her company.”
I nod. “And I think that’s beautiful, too.”
Not only are Shep and I official, but Mortimer Manor officially has a ghostly resident.
Life in Starry Falls continues to get stranger and brighter each and every day.
That night, after a long day at the café, Shep and I watch as Stephanie packs up all of her clothes, her myriad of shoes, her doodads, and whatsits, and whatnots, and hightails it to the front porch as a cab waits by the curb.
“Stephanie”—I say as I pull her in close—“I take it back. I don’t want you to leave. Stay as long as you want.”
She clucks her tongue. “You’re just saying that because I’m leaving.” She dabs the tears from her eyes with a tissue. “Besides, I came to this conclusion myself, so you can’t have the satisfaction of kicking me out. It’s high time I go and make Eddie’s life miserable again. He’s been furloughed far too long.”
The two of us share a laugh before she waves Shep over.
“Come here, hot stuff, and give me some lovin’.”
She pulls Shep into our holy huddle, and we indulge in one big group hug.
“All right.” Stephanie straightens. “I’m taking the cab to Scooter Springs and staying the night. Then it’s off to New Jersey by way of fifteen different states. At least that way we’ll know no one is following me.” She presses her lips together. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, Stella.”
And that’s all it takes to unleash a river of tears from me.
We migrate over to Shep’s porch, and Stephanie blows a kiss my way.
“I promise to write!” she shouts.
And I quickly shout back, “Send it to Canada!”
I take in a quick breath.
My vision!
And I’m not to enthused about what’s about to happen next.
The cab takes off with my sister as we wave like mad at one another.
Shep pulls me into his arms and looks deep into my eyes.
“Now about that secret, Bowie.” He touches his finger to my lips. “I already know what it is. Stephanie let me in on it.”
I gasp and gag as my brain struggles to decide which direction to maneuver the conversation.
“Wait a minute”—I threatened that girl within an inch of her life—“what secret?”
“It’s fennel.”
“Fennel?” My mind reels, trying to make sense of this. Is fennel another word for sibylline? Is it some other category of transmundane that I’m not aware of? It’s times like these I really wish I had my Nana Rose here to lay it all out for me.
My Nana Rose!
“The sauce!” I say a little too loud. “You’re right. That is the secret. Just a pinch and no more. It really gives it that oomph you’re looking for.”